Gentry looked down at the chart in his hand and read the test results. For the sake of his residents, he “presented” the patient.
“Forty-two-year-old female suffering from gunshot wound to the lumbar region, specifically L3 and L4. Upon admittance to this hospital, the patient’s spinal cord injury was deemed ‘complete,’ meaning no sensation or motor functions from the site of the injury and below. Steroids were given to try to reduce the swelling in the area in hopes that would alleviate some level of impairment, with no significant benefits. Because spinal decompression and stabilization proved fruitless, it was decided that the patient would undergo surgery to reconnect the damaged bundle of nerves. The surgery took place yesterday. I was honored to be chosen as the lead surgeon in the procedure. Today we are here to perform the neurological exam based upon the impairment scale, known as the ASIA scale, looking for improvement on the patient’s last scores.”
The residents all nodded and took notes as though they knew exactly what was going on.
“Okay, Dr. Winter. Let’s start with what we know works. Would you please close your eyes?” Dr. Gentry lowered the head of her hospital bed until she was lying completely flat. “With your eyes closed, please tell me when and where you feel a little prick.”
Then he took a metal toothpick-looking instrument out of its sterile wrapper and pricked her arm.
“There,” she said. “On my left forearm.”
“Good.” The doctor moved to Margo’s torso and poked hard enough for Margo to squirm.
“Ow, yes, I felt that,” she grimaced. “On my right side just over my ribs.”
“My apologies,” Gentry mumbled as he continued his exam.
He moved the instrument to just where Margo’s belly button would be and hovered for a good ten seconds before pricking her belly. Margo didn’t even flinch. Dr. Gentry tried another location along the same line but more toward her hip. He pricked her through her hospital gown but again, no response.
“You’re still using your instrument on me, aren’t you doctor?” Margo’s voice sounded hollow.
“Yes, Dr. Winter. I’m going to try something; you’re free to open your eyes.”
Margo did and asked to be raised back in a more upright position so she could see what the doctor was trying.
Once the bed was situated to her liking, the doctor handed the instrument to Margo herself.
“I can’t remember ever doing this, Margo, but I believe you may want to examine yourself. Just remember to watch where you’re pricking so you don’t unintentionally make yourself bleed.”
The residents stayed absolutely silent as everyone watched Margo take the instrument from Dr. Gentry’s hand and feel the sharp tip with her finger. Her eyes wide with fascination as much as fear she took the instrument and ran it from the center of her chest down her stomach slowly. Once she reached her lower abdomen, she stopped. Her eyes filled with tears. She took the instrument and tried again, this time on her left side. Again she stopped when she reached just below the curve of her waist. Fat tears slipped down the sides of her face as she lay back and stared up at the ceiling.
Everyone was silent, giving the woman her moment’s peace, as she had to swallow what was surely a bitter pill. Being a doctor, she knew exactly what this meant.
“May I please have everyone leave the room except family?” Margo’s voice was steady.
The residents and Dr. Gentry nodded, murmuring how sorry they were and shuffled out of the room.
Creed made a move to leave, too, but Meg held his hand firmly at her side and stopped him. He was family and needed to stay.
Once everyone else had left, Theo sat in the seat right beside his fiancée and reached out to hold her hand. “Margo, it will be okay. I know this wasn’t the news you were hoping for.”
Meg could sense something different coming from her mother. She wasn’t angry or bitter. She was prayerful.
“Mom?” she started.
“I should have died in that courtyard, but I didn’t,” she began, her eyes looking earnestly around the room at people she loved.
“I was shot three times in the back and the one bullet not stopped by my bullet proof vest hit me in the spine. That alone should have killed me, but I lived because my children refused to leave me.” Her voice was soft but strong as she looked between Meg and Creed.
“Then on the ten-hour flight back to the States, the only reason I stayed alive was because of the skilled hands of my Evan and sweet little Sloan.”
“Here I am, by the grace of God, able to talk and laugh, remember and reason. I can hold your hand, Theo, and I can hug my children. The devil meant it for evil, but God turned it to good. I am blessed beyond measure.” Her eyes were still wet with tears, but she was smiling too.